


Mistress of the Grey Hunt

by SmutWithPlot



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, spoilers for eps 25+
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 06:35:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9589103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmutWithPlot/pseuds/SmutWithPlot
Summary: At Whitestone, Baroness of the Third House of Whitestone and Mistress of the Grey Hunt... is a very specific title given to a very specific person. Percy's had those wheels in motion for some time now, and now that Vex's manor has finally been finished, it's time to tie up those loose ends.





	1. Chapter 1

_Shave-and-a-haircut_.  
"Who is it?" Cassandra asked, a mountain of paperwork before her. The pen in hand was giving her cramps, and the names and signatures and legal obligations were beginning to blur together... She hoped it wasn't the Captain of the Guard with the soldiers' hours yet. She didn't want to think of gold, too...  
"It's me," came a familiar voice. Relief melted her bones, and a soft smile. She straightened, finishing a signature with a flourish, and put on her best face.  
"Come in," she answered, formal as ever.  
The door opened, and in stepped her brother. 6'something ridiculous, a shock of white hair with a taste of steel around the temples, spetacles perched on his nose, and darting, watchful eyes. He turned, closing the door behind him, and she watched him, pausing her work, as he looked over his shoulder with a mischeivous smile, a plot in his eyes.  
"That is a dangerous look in your eye," she remarked, jealous at how he could keep such a spark of child-like curiousity and play to him, despite all they've been through.  
"I have a very dangerous proposition to ask you," he answered. It was a mere three strides to cross the room, and he stood before her desk, and bowed in his own practise of propriety. "How goes work?"  
"Honestly? Mind-numbing. You either better have a good joke or a cuppa tea for me."  
He chuckled. "Well, I don't have tea, but you just might laugh at me." And then he was her brother again, looking down at the carpet, a slight tug of his lips in his teeth, and his fingers fiddled with his sleeve. "I need a license."  
"For?"  
"For... marriage."  
Her smile faltered, and she blinked up at him. His disquiet came to his face, a sort of... ill green colour tinging his cheeks. "Marriage?"  
"To the Lady Vex'ahlia."  
"The... elf?"  
" _Half_ -elf," he corrected. "And yes." He swallowed hard, and she blinked again.  
"Umm..." Her fingers rifled with paperwork, her brain suddenly not working, and she stopped, realising she had no idea what she was doing. There were _rules_  to whom they could marry, and yet she couldn't think of any... "Err. Is she nobility?"  
And then he laughed, a broad, cheek-splitting smile on his face. "Yes, she is, actually." He clasped his hands behind her, chest out and proud. "Lady Vex'ahlia, Baroness of the Third House of Whitestone, and Grand Mistress of the Grey Hunt."  
Realization dawned... and she smiled, too. She bit her lip and looked up at her brother, leaning back in her chair.  
"...That's what I thought." She put the pen down and examined him. "You were plotting this a while ago."  
"Indeed I was." There was a bit of a challenge there. A challenge she should have met when he gave her the title to confirm and record back when they'd returned from the Fae Wild. At the time, she wasn't sure if she had remembered the honorific correctly and what it entailed, or if she and her brother would merely be playing fast and loose with the titles in an attempt to rebuild Whitestone, and to hell with tradition.  
"Does she have any idea what that means? Mistress of the Grey Hunt?"  
He fiddled with his nose. "Not a clue. Not exactly something you find in a history textbook, is it?" He tilted his head to one side. "But I have a precedent. You mustn't think me mad for asking for this now."  
She shook her head... slowly. In awe of him. "Marriage is quite a proposition."  
"I want the world to know she's mine," he answered. "And..." And then more quietly, "...For the world to know I'm hers."  
There was that ill look to him, coupled with a soft smile. It made her smile, too."  
"...Very well. It will take time."  
He nodded. "Of course. Proper avenues and all that. But I thought I would get it underway."  
She nodded, too... "Did you ask her yet?"  
He snorted. "No. I'm saving that for last."  
"Avoiding it, you mean."  
"Like the bloody plague."  
...And then she _did_  laugh. "Oh, Percival... You are... Completely mad."  
"Oh, absolutely."  
She straightened back up in her chair, smiling down at her paperwork, and waved him off without looking. "Get out of my sight, you tricksy boor."  
"Of course," he answered, bowing again. He turned on his heel and opened the door.  
"And send in some tea, you cad!"  
His laughter rung in the hallway before the click of the door cut him off.  
...The quiet of her room rung like the piercing of a bell. Something methodically noted that... Now that her brother was going to be married, she would be expected to court soon. And also, that she had no idea where marriage licenses were... It helped cheer her, nonetheless, and the afternoon went by with less scowling.


	2. Chapter 2

Construction was going surprisingly well, Percival had said. Something about the man of the castle who had, with the help of his band of ragtag misfit companions, saved them all from the horrors of the Briarwoods and their undead legions gave them a motivation to work quickly, and as well as they could. What had been the home to a monster, and then a lot with a pile of ash on it, was now its own house. Big walls and intricate carved wood, whitestone and furs, silks and glass and brass... Percival insisted that five bedrooms was the standard for the home of a baronness, an office each for the lord and lady, a trophy room for her hunting, a library for everything she'd learned... He even sat with her and helped her pick out a professional chef and butler, as well as a Captain of the Guard. He taught her the local proprieties and how to write missives and sign them with her new title, and there had even been gifts from Syngorn. She didn't want to admit how much she loved the elven furniture, and to be honest, she'd feared it would leave a bad taste in her mouth... But it somehow fit just fine.  
She was in the foyer, anxiously waiting for him. In her hands was a letter - nay, a note. A quick bit of parchment that held the final words of a conversation, a confirmation that he would 'be by for tea', and that he had a house-warming gift for her. As if he hadn't done enough, she couldn't help but think he meant it literally, and had made sure the bedroom was properly dressed... And her body as well.  
She'd always loved soft cottons and polished leathers, the delicate touch of a feather. But Percy had taught her about the mature pleasures of silks and satin, layers of fabric that teased and enticed, and encouraged hands to touch... She wore one of his favourites, blue satin, dressed in delicate feathers that... always seemed to need replacing.  
The door was open, the air crisp and cool in the early spring, and she kept her eye on the road. She could see quite a ways if he came straight from the castle. She wondered if that was a mere happenstance from where the house was placed, or if he'd arranged that himself... So close, yet so far away.  
And yet, there was the pounding of a fist on a door. She started, turning about, trying to think of where it was coming from. The kitchen? The back? She gathered up her skirts, and followed the sound, patient but insistent.  
Letter still clutched to her breast, her heart raced as she spotted the familiar silhouette in the back window.  
"Vex?" he called. "Aren't you in?"  
She skidded a halt at the door, giggling to herself, as the flush-faced cook came in behind her.  
"Sorry, milady!" he apologized. "I was setting for tea --"  
"It's no bother," she answered, beaming, and opened the door.  
"Oh! Hello, darling." His cheeks were pink in the cold, a coat of cerulean on his shoulders. It almost matched the shade of blue she was wearing. He held out a bouquet. "For you."  
"Flowers?" she said, raising a brow. "How... traditional."  
"Well, fresh flowers ought to be a staple in any centerpiece. And they make the lady of the house smile more if they're given to her by someone she rather likes."  
She blushed, smelling them - they were wildflowers, daisies in a myriad of colours, green and yellow and magenta, things probably picked by hand in a field some ways away from here. "They're lovely."  
"Should hope so. I paid 50 gold for them."  
She laughed, a voice in the back of her head not sure if that was a joke, but also FAIRLY certain 50 gold was outrageous for flowers. Wildflowers, anyway.  
He took off his gloves and stomped his boots. The cook assisted him, looking between the two of them with polite exasperation.  
"Tea is ready," he said, gesturing back from where'd came.  
Percy nodded and followed Vex'ahlia, who was clutching the bouquet like it was gold...  
Tea was lovely, as always. They chattered about their day, Vex reporting on how things were going with the house, Percy about legal matters he'd been attending to in the castle with his sister, how Vax had sent a letter from Zephyra and sent his love... The usual things. When tea was finished, she walked with him back to the foyer, arm in his, his hand clutching hers. Her eyes wandered up the stairs, knowing what was waiting for them... When he stopped. He had that fond smile on his lips, that sharp and clever look in his eyes, and she knew that he was wise to her ideas.  
"By the way... There's something I've been meaning to ask you, Vex'ahlia."  
"Hmm?"  
"Yes. This whole... Third baroness, Mistress of the Grey Hunt thing. Did you... Do you like it? All of this?"  
She hesitated. "I... I like being here. With you. The... house is a bit much, but..." She blushed. "Well, I suppose I'm just so used to be out in the wild. It's... an adjustment."  
"But not a bad one, I hope?" His brow furrowed in concern, his lips pouting ever so slightly.  
"Not a bad one, darling," she assured him. And she pressed a kiss to his sleeve. "I'm eternally grateful. I mean... I miss Vax." She looked down at his hand on her arm, and it brought her a quiet comfort. "But... You know. He has Keyleth." She looked up at him. "And... I have you."  
He blushed, ever so subtle, and yet she saw it. "I was... Hoping you would say that."  
"Oh?"  
And then he moved away from her, his hand sliding down the sleeve to take it, and then... And then he got down on one knee. She stared in shock as he didn't quite meet her eye, frowning to himself as his other hand rifled in a pocket. She touched a hand to her lips and... And then he looked up at her, with that determination in his eyes when he had his target in his sights. The ring he held up was... beautiful. Silver like his hair, with a drop of sapphire, and sparkling diamonds around it, the metal shaped into vines entwined around each other. She was speechless.  
"Lady Vex'ahlia... Baroness of the Third House of Whitestone, and Grand Mistress of the Grey Hunt..."  
She giggled, and if there were tears slipping down her cheeks, she didn't care. His cheeks were red, and his grin was broad, and his eyes sparkled with fear and apprehension and excitement.  
"...Daughter of Syngorn, sister to Vax'ildan, paladin of the Raven Queen and friend to the Ashari. Treasurer of Vox Machina."  
"Now you're just stalling," she chided, her voice wobbling, as she moved a hand to wipe away tears.  
He just beamed at her... And then his voice was soft. "Vex... Will you marry me?"  
She nodded furiously, both hands moving to her face as she sniffed, and he stood, towering over her like a protective shadow. "Yes. Yes, of course!"  
His hands were steady as he took hers, and slid the ring onto her finger, and she burst out with a laughing sob. She spared it half a glance before she threw her arms around him, and kissed him, wet and salty and desperate, and he wrapped his own arms around her tiny waist.  
"Yes," she whispered against his lips. "Yes, yes, and forever, yes..."  
They lingered together, swaying slightly for a long moment, until their breath had run out...  
He sighed against her, and she giggled, moving the hand to his breast so she could look at it more closely. He moved his head to kiss her forhead as she gave another strangled laugh.  
"Oh, Percy, it's beautiful..."  
"Not as beautiful as you are," he murmured into her hair. But he looked down, eyes shining, proud to see it on her hand at last.  
And then she coughed. "Oh gods. Vax. I'll need to tell him."  
"He already knows," Percy answered, his voice low and full of mischief.  
She blinked at him. "And... my father?"  
He smirked. "Technically, I think that Masters set was an engagement gift."  
She gawked. "You..."  
"And the paperwork I did today... Was for a marriage license." He took her hand, raising it to his lips, eyes never leaving hers, and kissed her fingers, just shy of the stone.  
And her face changed, a squeezed, frustrated, eyes-narrowed grump to them, but her lips couldn't quit the smile.  
"You are the worst," she hissed, cocking a head to one side.  
"Oh, I know," he answered, a cocky smirk to his lips.  
Her strong hands grasped the lapels of his jacket, pulling him close, and their faces moved together. "I'm going to fuck the shit out of you."  
"If you didn't, I'd be very disappointed, my dear."  
This kiss was not tender or sweet, but cruel and angry, greedy and wanting, and when she started up the stairs, his ascot still in her fingers, his long legs only barely kept him astride, his laughter ringing in the hall.


End file.
